


He Likes Things To Be Well-Ordered

by addleheadedfemale (justaskalice)



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaskalice/pseuds/addleheadedfemale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What else is in William Darcy's calendar? Future fic. Inspired by episode 99.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. March 2013

 

 

**Sunday, March 17, 2013**

7:30 p.m. - Anniversary [*repeat event every year*]

 

Before he rings the doorbell, he pulls out his pocketwatch and notes the time. Is it too late to be calling on her? It's certainly too late to turn back. He takes comfort in the fact that, should he fail, none of his closest friends know what he's about to do. It won't lessen the heartbreak, but it will allow him to retreat and heal in a way Lizzie's very public rejection had prevented the last time.

Gigi has been insufferable. Not a day passes without some kind of reference to the redhead who has taken his heart and mind hostage. "She misses you, William. You're an idiot if you let her go after everything that's happened! Just call her, what's the worst that can happen?"

And now he's about to face the worst. But he rings the doorbell anyway, knowing that he may also be facing the very best. He clings to the memory of her eyes when he asked her to the theater, the way they crinkled at the corners, happy, hopeful, and a little confused. He pushes away the possibility that he was projecting his own feelings onto her. It's too late for such thoughts anyway. He can hear approaching footsteps.

In the instant before the door opens, he remembers that Lizzie does not live alone, and he prays that her father isn't about to answer the door. It is difficult to determine who is more surprised to see who - Charlotte or William.

Charlotte closes her mouth with an audible snap and leans backwards, peering down the hallway and into the house. Then she steps out onto the doorstep, closing the door softly behind her.

"It took you long enough."

"Excuse me?"

It isn't the proper way to greet an acquaintance, but he is thrown by the knowing look she's giving him, and besides, she hasn't said hello yet either.

"Listen, Lizzie's been a little...fragile lately, so if you're here to deliver bad news-"

"That depends entirely upon her."

They stare at each other for a long moment, and an understanding is reached.

"Good, then. She's through the door at the end of the hall."

He nods and she opens the door again, letting him enter first.

"Oh, and Darcy?" She's whispering, clearly trying to let him surprise Lizzie. Either that or she suspects Lizzie to be a flight risk and doesn't want to give her an opportunity to run.

He merely raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"I know you guys are the masters of avoidance tactics, but this may be your last shot. Don't mess it up, okay? I can't be held responsible for my actions if you do."

There's no way to respond to that, so he just nods and turns down the short hallway. A parade of family pictures and school photographs line the walls, but all he can focus on is the sound of Lizzie's voice. He's missed it, and until now he hasn't realized just how much. He has listened to her message a thousand times on repeat, but it is a poor substitute for the real thing. As he nears the doorway, her words become clearer.

"Second chances are rare. I think I used all of mine up."

There's a catch in her voice. Is she crying? Is she talking about him, about them? He hesitates, tripping over his feet as he pulls up short. She's heard him, but she turns away, clearly expecting Charlotte. He takes a deep breath, and then steps into the room.

"Hey, do you need money for the tip?"

* * *

**Monday, March 25, 2013**

9:00 p.m. - Departure

9:47 p.m. - Arrival @ SFO

 

"Let me take you to the airport."

"There's no point, Lizzie, it isn't as though you can walk with me to my gate. You'd  be dropping me off at the check-in, which is a wasted trip. Besides, I have to return my rental car."

She hugs him around his waist and leans her head against his chest. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go, either." He ducks his head and presses his nose to her hair. She uses the most amazing shampoo, though she doesn't believe him when he tells her so. It doesn't matter to him that it costs her five dollars at CVS. The smell is distinctly Lizzie, and he knows he'll be stopping to pick some up before he gets home tonight. 

She mumbles something into his chest, but she's holding on so tightly that he can't make it out. Reluctantly, he pries her loose.

"What?"

"The next few months are going to completely suck, aren't they?"

He smiles sadly and leans down to give her a gentle kiss.

"That is my assessment as well."

* * *

**Tuesday, March 26, 2013**

12:15 p.m. - Lunch with Gigi

_Reminder: Call Lizzie 7 p.m._

9:00 p.m. - Drinks with Fitz

 

He would be amused by the way Gigi and Fitz insist on keeping him occupied that first day back in San Francisco except for the fact that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about the girl he left behind since he boarded his plane the night before, and he suspects the distraction is a good thing. When Gigi bounces into his office for their lunch date, grinning from ear to ear, he can't help but feel relieved.

"I would like to go on record as having totally called it," she teases, hopping up on the edge of her desk.

"Yes, you're very clever. Your gold star is in the mail."

She rolls her eyes, but can't supress her smile. "She's rubbing off on you. That was very Lizzie-esque sarcasm."

"I will accept that compliment."

Talking about the events of the last week helps somewhat, and Gigi keeps up a steady stream of questions throughout their lunch. He is freer with his feelings than he normally would be, and she takes advantage of his natural high, wringing every bit of of information out of him that she can.

He assumes that Fitz is waiting for her phone call after lunch. They've probably come up with a name for this scheme to keep him from spiraling into a post-Lizzie depression. Likely they have code words in place. Just to be sure, he checks Fitz's Twitter account before they meet for drinks.

  
**@FitzOnTheFitz** : @ggdarcy How's our boy doing? Were there hearts floating around his head?

**@ggdarcy** : @FitzOnTheFitz Hearts and little birds. He's twitterpated!

**@FitzOnTheFitz** : @ggdarcy I see what you did there.

**@ggdarcy** : @FitzOnTheFitz I can't get anything past you :P Keep me posted!

He sighs. Predictable.

**@wmdarcy** : @ggdarcy @FitzOnTheFitz You are both ridiculous. But thank you.

**@ggdarcy** : @wmdarcy Our pleasure. @FitzOnTheFitz

 


	2. April 2013

**Wednesday, April 3, 2013**

6:00 p.m. - Dinner with Aunt Catherine

_Reminder: Bring LBP prospectus_   

**Friday, April 5, 2013**

_Reminder: Flowers_

They haven't been together a full month before he is reminded, rather forcefully, that Lizzie Bennet does not always behave the way he thinks she will.

"I can't believe you did that. I mean, of course you did, but I cannot  _believe_  you did that. And without even asking me!"

"I only intended-"

"Oh, I know what you intended. But William, that woman is a control freak. She micro-manages  _everything_. I don't want her involved in my business. I don't want her to get within a thousand feet of my business!"

"Catherine can be a bit overbearing, I'll grant you, but-"

"A bit? Are you kidding me? I don't think Ricky Collins goes to the bathroom without asking her first!"

"Elizabeth Bennet, let me finish!"

The tone that emerges is one he has never used with her, hasn't used since Gigi was an unruly adolescent and he was an overwhelmed undergraduate with no parents and little support. Even over the phone, its effects are instantaneous. He regrets the outburst immediately, and curses the fact that her face is hidden from him.

It can't be helped. He may as well use the silence she's provided. He takes a deep breath and attempts to neutralize the damage he's just done.

"Catherine DeBourgh is a central pillar in the new media community. As an investor, as a connection, she is invaluable. What I did for Lizzie Bennet Productions-"

" _My_  company."

"Yes,  _your_  company. What I did was something that I would have done for any promising new entrepreneur whose work I wanted to encourage. I've done it before, and I have no doubt I'll do it again. She is heavily invested in Pemberley Digital, and please believe me when I say that while she is not the easiest person to work with, she does not dictate our daily operations."

"That's different."

She's calmer now, too, though still sullen-sounding, and he congratulates himself on averting complete catastrophe.

"How?"

"You're...you."

He can't help it; he laughs. "And? I wasn't always  _me_ , as you so oddly put it. I was twenty years old when I became CEO. You cannot honestly believe that was an easy thing. I had to figure out how to run the entire company; dealing with unruly investors was part of that."

"Well, maybe so, but-"

"I simply presented your prospectus to her and suggested she review your business plan. What happens next is up to you. And besides, even if she does not decide to invest herself, she often discusses and recommends new enterprises with other venture capitalists. You will have to learn how to answer to investors, Lizzie. And I have every faith that you can and will."

There is a long pause.

"You should have asked first."

"I see that now."

"The flowers are beautiful. How did you know I love daisies?"

She's smiling, he can tell, and the lump in his stomach starts to dissolve. "I didn't," he says honestly. "They just...remind me of you."

* * *

**Wednesday, April 17, 2013**

_Reminder: One month anniversary_

4:00 p.m. - Departure from SFO

7:00 p.m. - Dinner reservations with Lizzie

 

She's there at the airport when he emerges into Baggage Claim, looking exhausted but so happy to see her. She runs up to him and jumps into his arms, ignoring the people who push past them on either side. In that moment, the only thing either of them are conscious of is the way the world suddenly feels complete again.

She kisses him, not stopping to linger on his lips, pressing featherlight caresses on his cheeks and eyelids and forehead. He's not one for public displays of affection, but the last three weeks have felt like a year and he finds he is completely out of self-control. She laughs breathlessly, clinging to his neck even as she slips from his grasp. They narrowly avoid toppling over.

A smiling older woman steps around them, pulling a carry-on bag behind her, and William finally remembers how exposed they are. He reaches for her hand and they leave the concourse wearing matching grins.

"Do you mind if we go straight to Netherfield?" he asks as they climb into Mr. Bennet's car. "I need to shower and change. And our reservations aren't for a couple of hours, so we have plenty of time." 

"No problem." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "I think you got handsomer in the last month. You're definitely more attractive now. And taller. Were your lips always so magnetic?" 

"Eyes on the road, Elizabeth." 

She emits a rumbling sort of growl, a sound he's coming to associate with various sexual scenarios, and suddenly he's less worried about the shower. Still, he feels disgusting from the plane and a full day of work besides, and the idea of losing himself in her touch seems more appealing after a thorough cleaning up.

"It's okay, William," she reassures him, dropping onto the bed in his room. "I didn't really sleep last night, so I'm going to take a little cat nap while you do your thing."

"You didn't sleep? Are you feeling okay?" He slides onto the bed next to her, touching her forehead worriedly, but she just bats his hand away.

"I haven't seen you in a month, and I'm like two weeks from graduation. I had a lot on my mind. But now I can sleep like a baby because you're here." 

The sentiment is downright saccharine, but he can't find it in him to care, so he smiles instead and kisses her on the cheek before heading into the bathroom. He showers as quickly as he can, laughing when he sees that Bing had the housekeeper stock Lizzie's shampoo just like he asked. He's so anxious to get back into her arms that he simply pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and towels off his hair, practically jogging back to the room.

She's asleep. It is simultaneously tranquil and completely erotic. In his absence, she towed off her shoes and socks and stripped off her jeans, which are strewn casually on the floor of the bedroom. Automatically, he picks them up and folds them before placing them on an armchair in the corner. His eyes take in her slim form hungrily, wandering up her pale legs to her slight hips, admiring the gentle curve of her stomach and the way her arm is flung wildly over her head. 

Carefully, he lies down next to her and strokes her outstretched arm, smiling as she slowly rouses from a deep sleep. She stretches and yawns like a cat, scrunching up her nose and blinking owlishly.

"Hi."

"Hello."

Her eyes start on his face, but soon are otherwise occupied, taking careful stock of his mostly bare body. She's never stared like this before, but then, he's never given her the opportunity. He feels objectified, but he doesn't really mind. After all, she's merely returning the favor. Once she's finished her perusal, she throws a leg over his hip and kisses him deeply and without warning.

"How would you feel about ditching our reservations and just ordering pizza later?" 

His answer isn't in words. 


	3. May 2013

 

 

 

**Saturday, May 4, 2013**

2:00 p.m. - Lizzie's graduation ceremony

 

Lizzie is with her classmates, and William finds himself completely surrounded by Bennets. Luckily, Bing came home with Jane, so he doesn't feel totally at sea, but the two of them are so absorbed in each other that Bing's presence doesn't really make a difference one way or the other. Gigi will be arriving later for the party, but for the moment he is on his own.

Unexpectedly, it is Lydia who settles down next to him as the proceedings get underway. She pulls a bag of red vines out of her giant purse and offers it to him wordlessly.

"No, thank you." 

"More for me." She takes a big bite of the rope candy and peers around the gymnasium. "So this is what graduation looks like after the rinky dink high school thing, huh?"

"I suppose." 

"You probably had a few big fancy shindigs like this, am I right?"

William shrugged. "To be honest with you, I haven't attended a graduation ceremony since Gigi finished high school. I didn't go to my undergraduate or MBA graduation. I didn't really think it was important."

Lydia stared at him for a long moment, chewing on her red vines. "That's totes bogus."

"Excuse me?" He examines her face for signs of sarcasm or teasing, but she looks serious - well, as serious as Lydia gets.

"Graduating is a huge friggin' deal, Darcinator. Do you know how long it's going to take me to get my B.A.? How many hours and hours of boring, awful studying and work? When I finish, you bet your ass I'm going to walk down that stage and accept that diploma. And my family is going to watch me do it. I couldn't have gotten even this far without my parents or my sisters or especially Mary. It's as much about them as it is about me." 

It is the longest speech she's ever delivered to him, and it takes him completely by surprise. 

"I guess I never thought about it that way," he says after a brief pause. "You're right." 

"Course I am, Darce. Haven't you heard? I'm the Ly-dee-ya." She winks and blows a kiss, and even though he's seen this particular move several times before on Lizzie's videos, it's less garish and obnoxious in person. He thinks again how similar she and Gigi are, and he resolves to thank his sister for all the love and support she's given him over the years. He really doesn't do that enough.

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, May 9, 2013**

3:00 p.m. - Lizzie arrives @ SFO

4:30 p.m. - Depart for Lake Tahoe

 

He's stuck in an impromptu production meeting when her plane lands, and he dispatches Gigi to pick Lizzie up from the airport, grateful she's in town for the weekend as well. It isn't how he would prefer to be spending this time, but it's also the last bit of work he plans on doing until Monday morning. 

Longingly, he thinks of the lodge on the water on Lake Tahoe, of the big glass windows with breathtaking views and Lizzie, just Lizzie, for an entire extended weekend. He has such plans for them, and none of them involve the Internet or other human beings, or really going outside. Not that he expects he'll get his way completely, but he has a feeling she'll be amenable to most of his suggestions.

"The entire homepage is going to have to be reconfigured to account for Google's new algorithm. Mr. Darcy, can we authorize some weekend overtime on this project?" 

"Hm. Yes, of course." 

He glances casually at the clock on the wall, then taps his phone awake and compares the two. The clock on the wall is a minute fast. She's been in San Francisco for almost an hour. His bags are waiting in entryway of his apartment, but that's thirty minutes away by car. 

He texts Gigi again and asks her to swing around to get his bags. He'll pay her back with dinner at her favorite restaurant by the marina. But not until after this weekend.

"So the real problem is that even once we're fully optimized, we won't be able to target our key demographics until we've made the change-over to the new format." 

It's 5:30. This is a disaster of epic proportions. Fanny Price will not shut up about the goddamn analytics and this meeting, which was supposed to take fifteen minutes tops, has now sucked up most of his afternoon, not to mention two and a half hours of time with Lizzie. Time that could have been spent in much more pleasurable ways.

He can't stand it anymore.

"I'm so sorry everyone," he interrupts Price and nods to the four other senior managers clustered around the conference table. "I have a rather pressing engagement, and I'm afraid I've made myself as late as I possibly can be without something dire occurring. Please let me know if I can be of assistance in troubleshooting this issue. I'll be available by phone all weekend."

He practically runs out of the conference room to his office, praying that Lizzie isn't too upset with him. Mrs. Reynolds gives him an odd look that he doesn't quite have time to process before he's hit in the chest by a blur of red and blue and she smells so good and her arms are a vice grip but he doesn't mind because she's here and not angry at all.

"I'm sorry, I got stuck in a meeting." 

"Gigi told me. I don't care. We got your stuff and we're ready to get out of here." 

Before he can answer there's a sharp knock on his door. He sighs loudly and lets go of her.

"Yes?" 

They don't make it to Tahoe that day, but they make the most of the evening anyway. Lizzie picks up Chinese take-out while he finishes up at the office, and they invite Gigi, Fitz, and Brandon over to William's condo. They drink too much wine and make a lot of noise, and despite the complete ruination of his elaborate plans, William can't help but feel that this is better.

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, May 12, 2013**

_Reminder: Obtain apartment listings for Bay Area_

"I don't need a real estate agent to find an apartment. How hard can it be?"

Gigi sips her tea in the corner of the kitchen, wordlessly watching the argument unfold. William and Lizzie arrived back from Tahoe in high spirits, but the mere mention of living arrangements has triggered an emotional response in Lizzie. 

"You've never done this before! Will you please just let me help you?" 

"I didn't ask for your help! And for your information, I have found and rented apartments before all on my own, and long before I met you, Mr. Darcy." 

The  _Mister_  makes Gigi snicker into her tea, but she keeps it quiet, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. This kind of sudden spat is common between her brother and the girl he adores, and it always blows over relatively quickly. They just can't seem to help themselves.

"I wasn't calling your competence into question. I was simply suggesting that perhaps it may be faster and easier if you allowed someone to lend a hand." 

"Faster and easier, maybe, but also more expensive." 

"Is that what you're concerned about? Lizzie, it's a nominal fee. I'll cover it." 

Gigi closes her eyes, immediately wishing she could help her brother in filtering his thoughts before he opened his mouth.

"That is so typical," Lizzie snaps. "You know, I may be swimming in student loan debt,  but my start-up capital is plenty substantial. I think I have enough of my own money to foot my relocation bills." 

"Excellent. I'll have my agent call you tomorrow to arrange some showings." 

Gigi opens her eyes and only just manages to avoid a loud guffaw. Lizzie stares wordlessly, completely flummoxed as to how she had lost the upper hand.

"Let me know how that goes," Gigi puts in, setting down her mug on the granite countertop and hopping off her stool. "I would love to stay, but I have to get back, and it's a decent drive home." 

As she hugs Lizzie goodbye, she whispers in her ear. "Sometimes its okay to let him help you. He's less of a pain that way." 

Lizzie laughs and hugs back. "See you soon, Gigi." 

 


	4. June 2013

 

**Saturday, June 1, 2013**

12:00 p.m. - Meet Bennets @ Lizzie's

_Reminder: Keys_

 

William is sitting in the parking lot when Lizzie and her dad arrive in the UHaul. He had argued against this location initially; it's too far from his condo, for one thing, and for another, he doesn't particularly care for the neighborhood. But Lizzie insisted, and that was that. He pushes off his car and walks over to the small moving van, giving Mr. Bennet a firm handshake.

"Where's the rest of the family? I hope everyone is well." William peers around, half expecting Mrs. Bennet and Lydia to descend at any moment.

"Turns out when you spend several years living at home you don't really have a lot of stuff," Lizzie says, exchanging a humorous look with her father. William follows them to the back of the moving van.

"I'm sure you have plenty-" He stops short. "Lizzie...where is your furniture?"

The moving van is neatly packed with boxes, each with Lizzie's distinctive handwriting in Sharpie on the top. He sees boxes with clothes and kitchen supplies and a few labelled "Miscellaneous-Office". There's even a box that apparently contains holiday decorations, although William is willing to bet that's mostly twinkle lights and tchotchis that Mrs. Bennet foisted off on her daughter. Lizzie's desk is pushed against the far wall of the space, and he thinks he sees a desk chair in the corner. Other than that, not a stick of furniture can be seen.

"Yeah, we're going to need to make a trip or five to IKEA."

"IKEA?"

Mr. Bennet chuckles and grabs a box, clearly intent on staying out of whatever conversation is about to take place. Lizzie crosses her arms.

"Swedish furniture store? Best way to furnish an apartment on a budget?"

"I am familiar with the company. You're going to furnish your  _entire_  apartment from IKEA?"

"Yes."

They stare at each other for a long time. Lizzie's eyes dare him to challenge this decision. Finally, he sighs.

"IKEA it is."

They get the boxes unloaded quickly enough, and Mr. Bennet begs off on their planned excusion, volunteering to unpack the kitchen and get everything to its appropriate room instead.

William has never been inside an IKEA before. He's not completely ignorant, of course, and he understands the appeal to people in Lizzie's position. But the acres of pressed wood and the smell of substandard meat (Lizzie insists on buying a hot dog before they get started, and he can't even watch her eat it) is not at all what he expected. At least the display rooms are somewhat entertaining.

"What do you think?" Lizzie bounces onto a bed and lays back, arms spread out on both sides.

William purses his lips and sits down gingerly, pushing on the mattress with the heel of his hand. "I'm not sure. This mattress does not seem to be very supportive."

Lizzie rolls her eyes. "Come on, you're not doing it right." She pulls him back so he's lying next to her. "This is how you test a mattress. Anyway, the mattress isn't the important part; we'll pick that out next. What do you think of the bed?"

"Why does it matter what I think? This is for your apartment." 

She sits up with a frown. "Seriously? I just figured...I mean, I thought we'd probably be spending time in both our places, and...forget it. You're right." 

"I've upset you." He tries to sit up, but can't find his footing and ends up toppling backwards again. Lizzie laughs and grabs his upper arm, hauling him up alongside her. 

"A little."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I didn't understand what you were asking. And you're right, of course. I anticipate a great deal of...apartment sharing."

He curses himself for being so awkward, for being unable to just  _do_  this naturally, like any other man in his position. He thinks ruefully that Bing would probably have known exactly what to say about the bed. But then, William has never been here before. Everything with Lizzie feels new, and navigating the pitfalls of not-quite-cohabitation is completely foreign to him. So he tries again.

"Personally, I like a little more height to my beds." He strolls over to the next bedroom in the display. "This is more suited, I think." 

He gives his opinion freely after that, and while he certainly wouldn't furnish his own home from such a store, it does make him fantasize about the future. As Lizzie sighs over a mocked up kitchen and grumbles about her woeful lack of counterspace, he envisions picking out dishes and bedding and creating a home together. Their home.  

Mr. Bennet seems surprised, and a little relieved, when they arrive back at the apartment still on speaking terms.

"No disasters then?" he asks, giving William a significant look. It is then clear that Lizzie was not the only Bennet who expected William to find IKEA unsuitable.

"Not at all," he replies. "It was...an experience."

Before he leaves for the evening (it wouldn't be proper to spend the night with her father there), they exchange keys. Lizzie will be keeping an eye on his place while he is out of town for the week, though he hopes she will feel free to use her key for other, more recreational purposes. Attaching hers to his key ring gives him an illicit sort of thrill, and he thinks again that this is the happiest he can remember being in a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, June 2, 2013**

10:35 p.m. - Departure from SFO

11:40 p.m. - Arrival LAX

 

He doesn't want to leave town for a week, especially not right after Lizzie moves in, but this business trip has been on the books for a while now, and he doesn't really have a choice in the matter. After that blissful first week, he has been cognizant of the fact that such breaks from reality must, by design, be rare. He has responsibilities to his company and his employees, and Lizzie understands that. In fact, it is one of the things she loves about him. Whenever he gets frustrated or overwhelmed by how full his life has become, he remembers that one fact. Lizzie loves him.

Still, that doesn't make it any easier to get comfortable in his lonely hotel room. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much to be alone; he can count the number of times that he and Lizzie have slept the night together on both hands, and half of those he didn't sleep very well. She is a restless sleeper, and several times he was rudely awoken with a hand in his face or a knee to his back. Still, there's nothing like the feeling of waking up and seeing her face first thing, and perhaps it's just knowing he'll have to go without that for an entire week that is making this so difficult.

His phone chimes on the nightstand, and he gropes for it in the dark, smiling when he sees that she has sent him a message. And not just a text message, but a video. He taps the screen impatiently, unable to wait a single second longer to see her, hear her, despite the late hour.

"My name is Lizzie Bennet, and I have a new place!"

 

He watches, bemused, as she gives him a tour of the apartment, now filled with her shoddy IKEA furniture. When he left her earlier that day, she was still putting things together with tiny Allen wrenches, and the place was in a disarray. Now thing look neat, if not completely put away, and she seems tired and happy. She points out little things that make him laugh, like the "optimal height" of the bed and the shower curtain that reminds her of his Aunt Catherine's favorite dress.

"So, anyway," she concludes, sitting down on a squashy armchair that William did not believe worth the price she paid for it, "that's the place. After Dad left this morning, it really hit me. I live here. This is my home now."

She looks around, peering over the top of the display at whatever she sees behind (out her windows, perhaps), and then she smiles brilliantly, right into the camera. "I think I'll get a cat."


	5. September 2013

 

**Tuesday, September 17, 2013**

_Reminder: Six month anniversary_

 

It isn't the elegant dinner out he would have preferred, but Lizzie is in the middle of a project at work that could be the biggest thing LBP has done yet, and she simply does not have the energy for "some overblown mid-week date night." He tries not to let it hurt his feelings when she says things like that, since normally she accepts his tokens of romance and affection with delight, but it twinges a bit that she isn't more excited about this milestone.

They stopped celebrating monthly anniversaries after the first one, mutually agreeing that it was silly for two grown adults to keep marking days like pre-teens. Even so, this is only the second relationship William has had that has lasted this long, and he already knows he intends to spend the rest of his life with Lizzie if she'll let him.

The topic of marriage has come up idly, once or twice, however beyond a vague expression that she would someday like to settle down, Lizzie hasn't made her opinions on the subject clear. He doesn't like to compare relationships, but it does make him impatient when Brandon proposes to Fitz in Italy and the two start planning their Spring 2014 wedding. He wants that. He wants a wedding with the people they love the most, but more than that he wants a marriage. He wants to come home to her every day. He wants to cook her dinner and get annoyed that his suits are covered in cat hair, because somehow Sherlock always manages to sneak into the closet and pull things off the hangers. He wants to have children with her.

The base sentimentality that he feels about this woman would have made him roll his eyes not long ago, but these are thoughts he can't stop having nowadays. He knows that she would protest any kind of proposal.  _It's only been six months, William. Where's the fire?_ He can hear the words, the tone. He even knows the face she'd make, with those overly expressive eyebrows and her wide mouth stretched in incredulity. But still, he can't help thinking about it.

He insists that she come over for dinner that night, because he hates cooking in her cramped apartment. She laughs and calls him a snob, but he prefers his copper pans and spacious island to her formica countertop and IKEA pots. He takes off from work early that afternoon to head to the market, instructing Mrs. Reynolds to only forward emergency calls. They've both been working so hard lately, and he just wants an evening for the two of them to decompress together.

By the time she arrives, his condo is simmering with the smell of roasted vegetables and steak. He's lit most of the apartment with candles, but she drops her purse on the floor and wanders into the kitchen, the only room in the place with full light. She catches him as he's tipping back the last few drops of wine in his glass, and she laughs.

"You started without me? Not cool, Darcy."

"Your glass is right there, Bennet." He gestures to the full glass he has already poured for her. "And dinner will be ready shortly."

"Music to my ears." She drops her elbows onto the island and props her head up with both hands. "I cannot believe it's only Tuesday. I just keep repeating  _I love my job, I love my job._ "

He smiles sympathetically. "We all have those weeks, but it is always worth it in the end."

"I don't think I could get through this without you." The admission is soft, but heartfelt, and William feels the glow of it in the wide smile that spreads across his face. Still, he feels the need to question her words.

"Of course you could."

She sticks out her tongue and takes a sip of wine, moaning happily as she swallows. "Maybe, but it would be about a zillion times harder. Charlotte helps, of course, and even Ricky, occasionally. But you? I don't know, you just make me feel like I can do anything."  

She's rendered him speechless, and he freezes, unable to find the words to tell her that no, she's wrong, that's what she does for him. Mistaking his silence, she laughs nervously.

"Wow, listen to me. I haven't even had half a glass yet. Sorry, I'm a little punch drunk right now. Loopy. Ignore me."

He turns off the burner and takes the steaks out of the pan to rest, then he walks around the island and hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. He pauses, working out how to say what he knows he needs to.

"My parents were business colleagues before they were married. I always thought it was strange, particularly because for so much of my younger years they were working to get the company off the ground. I wondered how they managed to spend all day working together and then come home to me and Gigi. I had never known anyone I wanted to spend that much time with, including my family."

She laughs. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"But with you," he continues, ignore her gentle ribbing, "I don't know. It isn't that I find it easy, because we are not easy people, you and I. We are both stubborn and headstrong and far to used to doing things on our own."

"Feeling the love, William. Really." There's a smile in her voice, though, and he hopes she knows where he's going with this, because it is harder to express than he thought it would be.

"You make me feel...Lizzie, I would spend every day with you. All day. I would be your partner in every way possible, and I don't think it would be enough. So when you say that I make you feel like you can do anything, it makes me hope that some day, you might...we might...this is coming out wrong."

"No, it isn't." She turns in his arms and looks up at him, and everything he wants to say is reflected in her eyes. "I understand. And...me too. All those things. Me too." 

 

* * *

**Friday, September 27, 2013**

7:00 p.m. - Dinner with Gigi and Edward

_Reminder: Pick up wine_

 

"Relax. It's not the end of the world."

"Where did she even meet him? Is he from a good family? Is he still in school? How does he support himself? Does he know about her past?"

William is overreacting; he knows this, but he can't stop himself. All the way to Sanditon, his hands have clenched the steering wheel too tightly, and he just wants to turn around and forget that he agreed to do this. 

"It sounds like Gigi really likes him. A lot. So go easy on him tonight, okay? She doesn't have a dad, but she does have you, and that means that introducing the two of you is a really big deal. Just remember how nervous you were about meeting  _my_  dad." 

The thought that Gigi's new...whatever-he-was could be intimidated by him pleases him, and William allows himself a few moments to bask in the satisfaction. He doesn't think he's being too obvious about it, but he must be mistaken because Lizzie starts to laugh.

"Oh my God, wipe that smile off your face."

He looks over at her and frowns very deliberately, and she laughs even harder. The sound of it loosens the knot between his shoulders.

"So you think she really likes him."

"She really likes him. This is not a drill." 

Laughter lingers in her voice, but she pats his knee gently, and he knows that she understands how hard this is for him. The impulse to say  _No, never again_ is strong. He wants to bury his head in the sand and simply pretend that his little sister is not giving love another shot, pretend that she will always be insulated by the walls he built for her, that she will never be damaged by anyone ever again. 

He sighs. "She could get hurt."

"Yes."

"I don't want her to be hurt again."

"I know."

He glances over at her, and he remembers that day almost a year ago when she told him that he was the last man on Earth she could ever fall in love with. He would take that pain a thousand thousand times if it means that he can be here with her now. 

"Okay. Fine. I will do my best to be friendly." 

"Your best best or your Gibson wedding best?" 

"Low blow, Lizzie Bennet." 


	6. October 2013

 

 

**Wednesday, October 9, 2013**

6:17 a.m. - Depart from SFO

3:42 p.m. - Arrive @ JFK

8:00 p.m. - Dinner with Bing and Jane

 

He accepts their invitation without thinking about it, forgetting in the moment that Lizzie won't be arriving for several days and so he won't have a buffer in case things derail. He forgets because he isn't used to thinking about the need for a buffer with Bing, who has always loved and admired him. That was before he took it upon himself to try to break up True Love, however (the capital letters, Lydia has informed him, are not optional). 

Now, despite all Jane's kindnesses and Bing's assurances that nothing has changed, he is on edge, unsure of where he stands. 

"Darcy! It's so good to see you." 

They meet at a neighborhood Italian restaurant near Jane's work, and William arrives before Bing. He does his best to look her in the eye and return her warm hug, but despite his best efforts he can feel his chin retreating into his neck. Some things will never change, no matter how much time he spends with Lizzie.

"Jane. You look lovely. How are you?" 

She smiles and shakes her head. "I'm sure I'm a mess, so you're sweet for saying so. To tell you the truth, I'm exhausted. Did Lizzie tell you I got a promotion?"

"She did." He exhales, happy to be able to talk about something that isn't personal. "When did you start again?" 

"A couple of weeks ago, but it feels like longer. I swear, I've been running on caffeine and snickerdoodles for days. I can't wait to thank Lizzie for her care packages. Where does she find the time?"

William has to laugh at that, because sometimes he thinks that Lizzie has taken to care package creation as a method of stress relief, something that he distinctly remembers her attributing to Jane. He's about to tell her as much when Bing arrives.

"Darcy! I'm sorry I'm late, traffic was terrible." 

A polite pattern of smalltalk follows, and William hears everything from the details of Bing's charity work to the new line that Jane hopes to start designing soon. He updates them on Lizzie Bennet Productions and Pemberley Digital, and soon the list of safe topics has dwindled dangerously.

"You and Lizzie have been together for quite a while now," Bing ventures, looking to Jane for support.

"Yes. Almost seven months. Honestly, though, sometimes it feels like years." 

There is a beat, and William hurries to clarify. "I almost can't remember what it feels like to be single." 

Another beat.

"I mean that in a good way." 

Finally, Jane has pity on him and smiles. "We knew what you meant. Lizzie said the same thing to me the other day, actually." 

His eyebrows raise involuntarily. He knows she talks to her sisters and Charlotte about him, of course. While they have a tacit understanding that certain aspects of their relationship will remain private, he has no allusions that she will stay completely silent on the matter, nor does he think that she should. 

"Oh, really?" He's tempted to ask more, but is unsure of the protocol. Jane must understand his predicament, because she immediately supplements the statement.

"Suffice it to say you make her very happy. And for that you have my thanks." 

Much later, after dinner and several drinks, the three of them are walking to the subway. Jane and William fall behind, an easy silence between them. 

"Jane?"

She looks at him and smiles that perfectly pleasant smile that he has never been able to decipher. "Yes?"

"I hope you know that I've regretted my actions-"

"Oh, Darcy, we don't have to-"

"Yes, we do. Please."

She sighs a little, and her smile disappears. "Okay. Go ahead." 

"I'm truly sorry, Jane. I know that doesn't change anything. I don't expect to be forgiven. I know that, for the sake of your sister, you have found a way past my actions, and I appreciate that more than you know. I just wanted to express to you my most sincere wishes for your happiness with Bing. I was wrong." 

She listens respectfully, her face as stoic as...well, his. 

"Is that all?" 

He purses his lips, reflecting on his apology. It isn't perfect, but it is the best he can do. "Yes." 

"Okay. Now it's my turn." He wants to look anywhere but her face, but he knows he owes her this. They stop walking, and he hopes that Bing will have the sense to turn around and see he's alone. 

"What you did, what you...with Bing. I mean, I just...I was really upset. Well, you saw Lizzie's videos. I was devastated." He nods once. He did see. It took the wind out of his lungs for a full day when he'd realized how wrong he had been about the depths of her feelings. Regret for his actions came later.

"But you know, that's something that made Bing and I who we are today. We talked about it, and for as much as sometimes I want that time back, who knows what would have become of us? I'm not saying you're blameless. I won't...absolve you. But I'll tell you what I told Caroline. You're family, and we love you, no matter what. Got it?" 

William has often thought that Jane Bennet is the least like her family in mannerisms and character. But in that moment, he understands that she is Bennet through and through.

"Understood."  

* * *

**Friday, October 11, 2013**

6:30 p.m. - Lizzie arrives @ JFK

_Reminder: Set up room service._

He usually takes care to spend his money wisely, and he isn't one for over the top opulence. Usually. Sometimes, however, he simply cannot resist a grand gesture, and the opportunity to spoil Lizzie in one of the greatest cities in the world is too good to miss.

"This is too much," she breathes, not pausing to look at the massive bed or even notice the hot tub. She goes right for the windows, as he suspected she would. Her fingers trace the skyscrapers and she looks as though she's barely holding herself back from pressing her whole body against the glass.

There's an idea.

"On the contrary. I think it is exactly enough." 

She turns to face him, and her eyes take on a wicked glimmer. She smiles a slow, sexy sort of smile and stalks toward him.

"A whole weekend away from work! I feel like I'm cheating on my company." 

"That's why I thought it was a good idea." He runs his hands down her arms and grips her hips, pulling her close. She finds the way he fixates on their height difference hilarious, but she lets it go, only teasing him for it occasionally. He's tried to explain how it makes him feel, but he always puts it wrong and she inevitably brings the conversation back to Freud and phallic symbols and the hyper-masculinization of etcetera etcetera etcetera and there is no winning that particular argument.

"Were you getting jealous?"

He starts to walk backwards, leading her toward the bed.

"Starting? I thought you knew. I'm always jealous." 

She's about to laugh, he knows she is, because while he does think of her as his, she is so much more than a chattel. But he isn't interested in joking just now. He whirls her around and gives her a push so that she lands on the mattress with a small bounce.

She doesn't laugh.

Later, breathless and sweaty and sated, they make their way down to Time Square, and even though he knows it's a silly, sentimental tourist trap and there are much better places to go in the city, they take their time admiring the lights and the sounds.

"It's like a completely different planet from San Francisco. Hard to believe we're in the same country." Lizzie's eyes flit from billboard to billboard. She's been putting off a visit to Jane for months now, and though she's unwilling to admit it out loud, William suspects it is because she's afraid. Afraid of what a change her sister has made, and afraid of what that change means for her, for them.

"Would you ever want to live here some day?" He doesn't think about the words before he says them, just poses the question as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, I don't think so," she answers, just as naturally. "I don't think I would want to raise our children in a city like this. I wouldn't know how." 

He accepts that answer without comment, but his heart races, and he knows that something fundamental has just shifted in the fabric of their relationship. Despite the electric lights that pollute the night sky above the city, he knows that the stars are shining brighter than they ever have before. 


	7. November 2013

 

 

**Saturday, November 9, 2013**

6:00 p.m. Emma Woodhouse Vlog Launch 

_Reminder: Pick up Lizzie's dry-cleaning_

"You need to eat something, Elizabeth." 

"You're not my mother, William." 

He laughs and lets his eyes sweep over her in appreciation. He always thinks she's beautiful, but tonight she is breath-taking. 

"Thank God for that." 

She rolls her eyes but smiles anyway, taking in the crowded room of investors and friends. "I couldn't eat a thing. I'm too nervous." 

"Lizzie! This is so exciting." Gigi runs up, eyes sparkling with happiness. William scans the room before spotting the lanky boy she brought as her date (he can't bear to think of Edward as a man, because that would mean Gigi is a woman, and that's one admission he won't make quite yet), and the two of them share a meaningful look. 

"William, stop staring down my boyfriend." He turns to her with a guilty start. "He's nervous enough tonight, don't make it worse. You can play scary older brother later."

Lizzie laughs. "Poor guy. He does look a little out of his element, doesn't he?" 

"Fitz is taking care of him," Gigi replies, smiling in Edward's direction. "Although I'm not sure that a steady stream of drinks is the best way to make him comfortable. Hold on, I need to make sure he's not going to die of alcohol poisoning." 

They watch her plow back into the scrum, William sighing audibly. 

"They're good together." Lizzie nudges him with her hip.

"Maybe. But I don't particularly want to talk about my sister right now." 

He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against his side, breathing in the scent of her perfume. She only wears it on special occasions, so of course he associates it with the kind of lacy, complicated underwear that usually accompanies these evenings. He's beginning to develop a Pavlovian reaction to the smell.

"Oh? What should we talk about? The national debt? The 49ers?" 

She's doing her very best to keep a straight face, but the laughter in her voice betrays her.

"We could discuss how wildly successful you're going to be with this new launch." He reaches out and taps a circulating waiter on the shoulder and commandeers two glasses of champagne.

"How about how full of it you are?" She accepts the glass with a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. 

"How about how incredibly proud of you I am?"

Her cheeks flush and she ducks her head self-consciously. "I haven't even done anything yet, William. There's still a lot of time for this to all go terribly wrong." 

"There's always time for that. But somehow I don't think that's your particular fate." 

Her laugh is music to his ears. "William Darcy, I am not quite sure what I did to deserve you." 

"Elizabeth Bennet, you've got that backwards." The music shifts, and he pulls her into his arms, depositing their glasses on another passing tray. "Dance with me."

"No one else is dancing!" she protests, but doesn't try to pull away. 

"I had no idea you were such a conformist." He spins her away and then back into his chest, carefully navigating around the guests. People are stopping to watch them, but for once William isn't worried about looking foolish. He is completely enthralled by the glittering, gorgeous woman in front of him, and she is just as enthralled by him. 

He dips her and she laughs breathlessly, never breaking eye contact until she's back cradled against his chest.

"Now you're just showing off." But she doesn't look like she minds.

"If you mean that I'm showing off the woman on my arm, then you are correct." 

"Do your employees know how soft you've gotten? It's shocking. William Darcy, force of nature and hopeless romantic." 

His lips twitch, but he pulls an affronted face. "What's shocking is how few compliments you've gotten on that dress." 

As if to illustrate his point, he spins her again, and the skirt flairs out around her ankles. 

"I got quite a few compliments before you got here. I think you might be scaring away my admirers." 

"In that case, I don't mind a bit. I am sorry about being so late. Blame Fanny Price and her penchant for weekend emergencies. I swear, that woman could bring down an entire server bank single handedly. And she has the worst timing." 

"I don't blame anyone," Lizzie says. "Well, maybe I blame Fanny  _a little_ , but the poor woman is always so horrified when things go wrong, I can't really be mad at her for pulling you away." 

"Let's banish Ms. Price to the list of subjects we won't discuss." Since Lizzie moved to San Francisco, he hasn't liked to go into the office on the weekends, but every time he has, it's been due to Fanny Price. 

The song ends, and as they separate, the whole room bursts into applause. Lizzie beams and waves cheerily, but William merely smiles bashfully and pulls her toward the bar. As a new song begins, other couples begin to dance, and the buzz of conversation returns full force.

"You know, if you danced like that when we met, things might have gone very differently." Lizzie leans over the bar, flagging down a bartender. 

William smiles, thinking about all the changes that Lizzie Bennet has wrought on his life since the Gibson wedding.

"I wouldn't change a thing. Not even the most awkward dance ever." 

* * *

**Thursday, November 28, 2013**

4:00 p.m. - Thanksgiving dinner with the Bennets

 

Everything is going well, all things considered. William makes a pie as his offering to the Bennet family Thanksgiving dinner table, and even though Lizzie teases that it's a very feminine choice, Mrs. Bennet is appreciative.

"Oh, Lizzie, and he  _bakes_?" She fans herself with a flirtatious smile. "He's a keeper." 

Mrs. Bennet seems much more intent on committing Bing to matrimony, however, and William is relieved when dinner gets underway without any more obvious hints regarding his relationship with Lizzie. 

It isn't that he wants to dodge the question, quite the contrary. It's just that despite vague signs that his girlfriend is receptive to the idea of becoming Mrs. Darcy  _eventually_ , she hasn't been in any rush to commit. Sometimes William feels as though he's balancing on the edge of a knife, trying not to push ahead before she's ready, even though it's all that he wants.

In retrospect, he supposes that he let his guard down too soon.

"So, William, Lizzie tells us that Pemberley Digital is having quite a banner year." Mrs. Bennet deposits a helping of dark meat on his plate and flashes a set of startlingly white teeth at him. She reminds him of a shark just before the frenzy. 

"Yes, we have been fortunate in our various projects." William allows himself to slip into the persona he uses in networking events and business meetings. "For example, the Domino beta launch in Sanditon propelled us into an almost entirely undeveloped field of new transmedia marketing and social networking."

"Gigi has her hands full," Lizzie adds with a laugh. "I don't think she expected that job to last as long as it has, and now with Edward..." 

"Nothing has been decided," William interrupts. 

"Of course not." Lizzie pops a Brussels sprout in her mouth and rolls her eyes at Jane. 

After the wrap of  _Welcome to Sanditon_ , Gigi decided to stay on in order to work with the city council on compiling the promotional documentary Pemberley filmed as part of the project. Every time he mentions bringing her back to headquarters in San Francisco, she comes up with another reason to stay longer. She always justifies the extension with entirely work related reasons, but Gigi is a terrible liar, and William isn't fooled. 

"So with a growing company going nowhere but up, you must be thinking about buying a home then?" 

Mrs. Bennet's segue is strange, but William can't quite decide why. He answers her question anyway.

"No, I own a large condo in the Bay Area. Gigi and I also decided to keep our family home after our parents died, so if I ever decide I need a change, that option is available to me as well." 

"Why the sudden interest in real estate, Mom?" His girlfriend's eyes are suddenly staring daggers at her mother, and from her tone William decides she has a guess exactly why. Seconds later, he finds out, too.

"I am merely making conversation." Mrs. Bennet deposits a spoonful of stuffing on Lydia's plate and flashes her teeth again. "William seems to have everything: a good job, his own home, health and good looks! Seems like all he needs now is a wife and children."

Lizzie snorts, and her mother narrows her eyes. "And you're not getting any younger, either, you know." 

The statement is ridiculous for so many reasons. Lizzie is just twenty-five, and he's not yet thirty. With fast-moving careers and nowhere to go but up, it would be completely logical to postpone marriage and children for several more years. Indeed, it is the choice that many of his colleagues made at his age. That it isn't William's preferred path forward actually makes him somewhat of an anomaly among his set.

_We're taking our time_  is the answer he settles on, although it isn't what he wants to say. Then, Lizzie surprises him.

"Maybe William doesn't want to get married, Mom." 

Confused, he turns toward her, mouth half-open, but she's not finished.

"Maybe I don't want to get married."

The words crush him. He feels it flicker across his face, but Lizzie is looking at her mother and misses the moment completely. She doesn't see him crumple, and she doesn't see the defensive stone wall constructed in the second that follows. 

"Lizzie, the things you say!" Mrs. Bennet must sense she's touched a nerve, because she goes back to pestering Jane and Bing. William isn't listening. Lizzie's words have sent him into a feedback loop, and even while his brain is shouting at him that there are perfectly logical reasons for her to say what she said, his heart is ripping apart along seams which he thought had long healed.

He barely tastes his food. He tries to engage in the conversations around him, but mostly he fails. Still, if he's suddenly doing an excellent impersonation of the William Darcy of one year ago, no one brings it up. Perhaps the Bennets just don't know him well enough to recognize the change. The only other person present who might have an inkling is Bing, and he is far too polite to mention it. 

It is only when William and Lizzie are getting ready for bed that she gives any indication she's noticed something is amiss.

"Are you feeling okay? You've been weird all day." 

Her back is to him, and she's putting on her pajamas. He sits down on the air mattress that the Bennets set up for them on the floor of the den, then immediately regrets it. He can't be below her for this, low to the ground, open to attack. He stands up.

"I haven't been  _weird_ , as you put it, all day." 

"Yes, you have. I know you aren't always the most talkative guy in the room, but today you were quiet even for you. Is something wrong?" 

She turns around, eyebrows raised. 

"You don't want to get married?" 

It isn't what he intends to say, but he hasn't had nearly enough time to script his words, and anyway, Lizzie has a way of blowing his scripts to pieces.

"Excuse me?"

"Today. At dinner. You told your mother you did not want to get married. You suggested that I did not want to get married."

She's shaking her head, denying it, but he isn't sure how she's managing it with a straight face.

"I said  _maybe._ And you know I only said that because my mother is crazy!" 

"No, I don't." 

"You do! You know I want to get married." 

There are the words, the correct words, but they are hours too late. He's been stewing all afternoon, and he is angry and wounded and absolutely sure he is in the right.

"Do I? Have you ever told me as much? Have you ever given me explicit reason to believe that you wanted this relationship to go in that direction?"

"Of course I have!" 

"When?"

She stares dumbly, and he savors a hollow victory. 

"You know I love you," she says eventually, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "I tell you that all the time."

"True. But do you see the difference between telling me you love me and telling me you see us together in the future?" He's choosing his words carefully, attempting to recall the days when he was able to rationalize every aspect of his relationship (or lack thereof) with Lizzie Bennet. But he's emotionally invested now, and he can't control the way his voice shakes.

"William, if I didn't want to be with you in the future, why would I be with you now?" 

She thinks this conversation is stupid, and she's losing patience. It shows in the barely concealed edge on the end of her questions, and the way she's flipped her hair over her shoulder and started to rapidly braid. She thinks she's made her point and won the day.

"I don't take any part of our relationship for granted, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't either."

"When have I ever taken you for granted?" 

"My point," he grinds out, "is that our relationship is premised at least in part on certain inequalities _."_

The word choice is all wrong, and she flushes angrily. "Is this about money?"

"This is about me loving you more than you love me!" 

The silence that follows his outburst seems to suck the air out of the room. He wants to take it back, but it is too late, and his worst fear and biggest insecurity are laid bare. He turns his face away and swallows hard, not wanting to see the pain he's inflicted on her.

Because it isn't true. Of course it isn't. He knows that. But he was alone for so long, and spent so many months convinced of her distain, and the scars from that still linger. 

"Is that what you think?" 

She sounds shocked and horrified and hurt and he can't blame her.

"No, no, of course not." 

He chances a look in her direction. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her face is pale. Bright red spots stand out on her cheeks.

"Then why would you say it?" Hurt replaces anger as her dominant emotion, and tears well up in her eyes. He hates himself a little more.

"Why would you say you didn't want to get married?"

"It was just something I said." 

"I'm sorry, that is not good enough." 

They are standing on opposite sides of the small den, the air mattress between them. Lizzie is dressed in a pair of old pajamas, and he is still wearing his shirt and tie and slacks. He hasn't even taken off his shoes. 

"What do you want me to say, William?"

"I want you to tell me the truth."

She rubs her eyes wearily. "Can we at least sit down? I feel like we're in a Mexican stand-off here." 

Reluctantly, he sits down on the love seat. She joins him a moment later, sitting cross-legged and just far enough away so that their legs don't touch. He processes the deliberate lack of contact with a dull ache. She exhales loudly.

"I chose my words poorly at dinner. I didn't think of how they would sound to you. I guess I assumed we were past all of the insecurity, that you knew how I felt after all this time. My mom makes me insane, and the fact that she cares more about a ring on my finger than the fact that I'm launching my own business and have actually been doing really well...I wasn't thinking." 

"I understand."

She arches one eyebrow, and he struggles to keep talking.

"What I said, just now-"

"That you love me m-more than I love you." She can't quite get through it without stumble. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and it is his fault. He can't take it anymore, and he reaches out and places his hand on her bare ankle. She doesn't flinch away, and he allows himself to believe that he hasn't broken this. Not yet, anyway.

"Sometimes I worry that you will tire of me. You are so outgoing, so sociable, so alive, and I am...well, not."

A few tears fall. "That's not true." 

"Lizzie, I have known for some time now that there is no one I would rather spend my life with than you. I have avoided the subject of marriage for many reasons. Your business is brand new, you were getting settled in San Francisco, we haven't been formally together for long. But whether we discuss it or not, it has become my dearest hope. I had assumed we were on the same page, that eventually you would feel comfortable discussing it. When you said...what you said...it brought every long banished fear racing back."

He allows her to process that, not moving his hand from her leg. After several long moments, she tips forward and wraps her arms around his chest, burrowing into his shirt and wiping her damp face with his tie.

"As proposals go, that wasn't the worst ever." 

His laugh is empty, but the fact that she is joking gives him some hope. He reaches up and smooths her hair away from her face, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb.

"If I propose, I promise you that it will be better than that." 

"Don't say if." 

She pulls away and looks up at him, and now her eyes are clear. "You're right, I haven't been clear. But neither have you. So let's get this out in the open once and for all."

Thank God for Lizzie Bennet. For all his prowess in the business world, he is woefully unequipped for this level of directness in his personal life. Their fights are rare, but when they occur, it is Lizzie who manages to strip away the extraneous layers and get to the heart of the issue. She pulls away his fear and his frustration. There is no one who has ever understood this part of him better, and he loves her all the more for it.

"I love you, William. I am in this for the long haul. I always thought I'd be terrified to get married, but thinking about being married to you gives me butterflies in my stomach and makes me so happy I almost can't breathe. I can't wait for that. I've practiced signing  my name Elizabeth Darcy. I'd show you, but I burned all the evidence."

She smiles shyly, and his heart races. 

"Your turn," she prompts.

"I am not sure how you expect me to follow that declaration." 

She shoves his shoulder good-naturedly. "Try."

So he takes both her hands in his, and he looks into her impossibly blue eyes, and he takes a deep breath, and he speaks.

"I never gave much thought to marriage. I was too young before my parents died, and after... Well, Gigi has been my sole concern for years now, and in a strange way, raising her was like being a single parent. I did not want to bring someone into her life - our lives - who would upset the balance. Meeting you changed all that. You not only upset the balance, you changed my equilibrium."

She laughs at that, but he gives her a look, and she stifles it. He raises her left hand to his mouth and kisses it before continuing.

"I hated you for it, at first. Then I became accustomed to it. And now, I would do just about anything to make sure that it never gets taken away from me. So, do I want to spend the rest of my life with you? Absolutely. Would I marry you tomorrow? In a heartbeat."

There are tears in her eyes again, but he hopes this time they are happy ones. He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers.

"Is this a proposal? Oh no, Lizzie Bennet, I think not." 

She pulls away with a laugh and a hiccup. "You are such a tease." 

Slowly, he loosens his tie. "A wise woman once told me that it isn't teasing if you plan on delivering."

She grins. "A wise woman indeed."

He kisses her softly, chastely, reveling in the completeness that this single act brings.

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"Me too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the idea of Pemberley Digital doing a "Making of" documentary from Realmer06's "Business as Usual." If you aren't familiar with this author...run, don't walk. I am in love with pretty much everything Realmer writes.


	8. January 2014

 

**Monday, January 6, 2014**

4:00 p.m. - Lizzie leaves for Longbourn

6:00 p.m. - Dinner with Gigi 

 

He phrases the invitation carefully, not wanting to rouse her suspicions. Gigi officially moved back to San Francisco right before Christmas, and he knows she's struggling with the transition in her relationship with Edward. Sanditon isn't too far away, but long distance is long distance, and he appreciates how hard her situation is. So he lures her over with promises of good wine and her favorite comfort food.

"Only if you promise to make it the real way. Nothing fancy, William. You know what I like."

"But it tastes so much better when I make it from scratch." 

"No, it really doesn't." 

"At least let me substitute a few ingredients." 

"William!" 

"Fine."

When their parents died, William underwent a crash course in cooking for two. Neither one of them wanted to face hired help, and so the learning curve was sharp. William, used to the dining hall at Harvard and before that, their mother's home-cooked meals, had no culinary skills. Gigi was just as sheltered. 

That first month, they ate a lot of frozen casseroles that their parents' colleagues and family friends sent over. But soon enough, the pre-made dinners ran out. William, juggling the enormous task of learning to run Pemberley Digital along with arranging a transfer to Stanford for the following Fall, had little time to spend in the kitchen. Nevertheless, eating dinner with Gigi every night was a priority, and so he did what he could to make sure there was hot food available promptly at 6:00. Most nights he defaulted to Kraft mac 'n cheese, sometimes adding hot dogs for extra added protein.

Eventually, he pushed himself to actually learn how to cook, but that came later, and although the meal started as somewhat of a joke, it became a staple. Even years after he had become a good cook in his own right, Gigi insisted that he continue to keep it in their regular meal rotation. He has perfected a homemade version with sweet Italian sausage and four different cheeses, but Gigi still insists on Kraft and Oscar Meyer when she is upset. 

When his sister arrives, dinner is piping hot and ready to serve. He hands her her bowl with a large glass of red wine. She dips her face into the steam, inhaling appreciatively. 

"You didn't do anything weird to it, did you?"

"Guess." 

She pouts, but puts down the wine in order to take a tentative bite. Her eyes roll back and she groans happily.

"Velveeta. You are the best brother in the whole world." 

"You know nothing in that bowl qualifies as real food, right?" 

"You shut your mouth. Velveeta practically qualifies as its own food group."

"It is not even cheese! It's...cheese  _food._  They had to invent an entirely separate category for it. Doesn't that give you some idea of how artificial it is?"

It's an old argument, but it is as comfortable as the meal itself, and they're both smirking as they play out their familiar roles. They make their way to the kitchen table, where William and Lizzie eat most evenings.

"So you're a bachelor this weekend, huh?" 

William shrugs. Lizzie has been spending more and more time at his condo, and it is starting to feel like she only leaves to take care of the cat and get clean clothes. He's toying with the idea of just moving Sherlock into his house, but he's not sure what her reaction would be. 

"Yes. Lydia is finishing up her application to SFSU, so Lizzie went home to lend some moral support."

"That's cool."

They make small talk about the Bennets for a few minutes, and then Gigi sighs.

"Okay, brother of mine. Go ahead." 

William freezes. "Go ahead and...?"

"Give me the speech." 

"What speech?" He panics, wondering how she divined his purpose for this dinner. She's good, but she can't be that good. He hasn't breathed a word to anyone. He's positive no one saw him leave the office early Friday afternoon. Not even Mrs. Reynolds knew where he was going.

"The overprotective big brother speech. You'll tell me that Edward is a nice guy but not worth my time and energy, and then I'll tell you that we're in love and we want to make it work, blah blah blah." 

He stares blankly at her, and she sighs again.

"I just would really like to get this part of the evening over with, okay? So, go ahead. Please." 

He can't help it. He laughs, a quiet chuckle that builds into a throaty giggle. Now it is Gigi's turn to stare. 

"What is wrong with you?" 

He holds up a hand, still laughing, and stands, making his way to his bedroom. He rifles through his underwear drawer until he finds the small velvet box that he got from the bank just three days before. He brings it back into the kitchen, and when Gigi's eyes land on the blue box they get impossibly wide.

"Oh my God. This isn't about Edward." 

He coughs, finally getting control of himself.

"No, Gigi, it is not." 

"Is that?" 

He opens the box to reveal a delicate gold ring crowned with a small cluster of diamonds. It was originally purchased by their great-grandfather in 1907 for his then-betrothed. Three generations of Mrs. Darcys have worn this ring, most recently Anne Darcy, their mother.

"I wanted your permission. I know it's part of our joint inheritance, and I would not dream of giving it away without asking you."

Gigi's eyes are full of tears, and she can't take her eyes off of the sparkling ring. 

"Of course you have my permission, William. What on Earth am I going to do with it?" 

"I thought maybe you would want it...in the future." 

She rolls her eyes and blinks back her tears with a distinctly unladylike snort. "Well, that's growth. I guess I should be happy you're allowing me to get married in your imagined future." 

But the jab has no venom behind it, only the gentle teasing of a beloved sister. "I think," she adds, "tradition would dictate that that particular ring is yours to give. And I can't think of anyone better than Lizzie." 

He exhales shakily, and the reality of this conversation sinks in. He has been thinking about this ring and its history since Thanksgiving, and it is a miracle he managed to wait as long as he did to retrieve it. There is something almost magical about the fact that it has been present at the beginning of three successful marriages. He can remember tracing the stones when they were on his mother's left hand, and how mesmerizing the sparkle was to a small child's eyes.

"I wish," he starts, then closes his mouth and looks down, embarrassed. 

"They would have adored her," Gigi says quietly. "Mom would have loved her for pulling you out of your shell. I've actually always thought Lizzie is a lot like Mom." 

"Dad would have been so impressed by her mind and her drive," William adds wistfully. "I imagine the two of them could have talked media theory for hours without hitting a subject twice." 

They sit in silent remembrance, each recalling happy days spent as a family years ago. Gigi speaks first.

"I don't remember what their voices sound like." It is a quiet, guilty admission, and William's heart breaks for her. "Every once and a while, I think I smell Mom's perfume at the theater or in the grocery store, and I look around like she's going to be there. Isn't that silly? They've been gone almost ten years, and I still look." 

"It isn't silly," he says. Then he gets an idea and stands up, grabbing his bowl and glass. "Come with me." 

A few years ago, he discovered a cache of family videos and film canisters, hidden away in the crawlspace of their parents' home. He had finally gotten around to digitizing the whole collection the previous summer, planning on surprising Gigi for their parents' anniversary. With everything that has happened recently, it slipped his mind completely.

When he tells her what he has, she jumps up and down, red wine sloshing precariously in her glass. She runs ahead to the media room and settles into her favorite recliner. They start with the wedding video and gradually make their way forward.

At first, Gigi can't stop laughing. "Look at Mom's hair! Oh my gosh, please tell me you're going to insist that Lizzie wear a veil like that."

"It would swallow her whole." The voluminous veil is ridiculous, but Anne Darcy was much taller than Lizzie is, and so the effect is actually quite charming, although William thinks that may be due to the uncontrollable smile on her face throughout the ceremony and reception. 

A series of short clips follows. Anne and William (or Will, as everyone always called him) moving into their first home. Anne, showing off a growing baby bump. Will, building a crib with limited success. Gigi and William have a good laugh about that. Their father was many things, but handy was never one of them. 

Next, William's babyhood and toddler years play out in quick succession. Gigi insists on watching one particular scene several times, and she looks so happy that he doesn't protest.

Their father is holding the camera, present only through the questions he poses to a four-year-old William, who clings to his mother's arm.

"Are you going to get married some day, William?" 

Serious blue eyes consider the question before he answers in a toddler's sing-song. "I think so." 

"And who are you going to marry?" 

This time there is no consideration. "Mommy." 

Anne laughs, and Will's voice cuts in again. "You know, William, your mommy is already married to me. I don't think I want to give her up."

William frowns. "We could take turns. Taking turns is nice." 

(During the third viewing of this conversation, Gigi pauses here to tell William that this is definitive proof he has always been a shrewd negotiator. He rolls his eyes and steals the remote back.)

Anne hugs her son close and laughs again. "Oh, little man, you're going to find a wonderful woman some day, and she'll be even better than me. I promise."  

William thinks about this for a moment. "Will she make me cookies?"

"I hope so," Will answers seriously. "What good is a wife who doesn't make cookies?" 

A second later the picture blurs and cuts out, as Anne Darcy leaps across the frame to pounce on her husband.

* * *

**Friday, January 24, 2014**

5:00 p.m. - Dinner with Mr. Bennet

 

He goes back and forth about speaking to Lizzie's father for a couple of weeks before deciding that he has to be true to himself. It isn't so much that he needs permission; after all, both he and Lizzie are independent adults and perfectly capable of making their own decisions. But asking her father for his blessing is respectful, and William is (hopefully) about to embark on a lifetime relationship with the entire Bennet family. Respect is imperative.

He doesn't want to risk calling the Bennets' landline, because this is one conversation that he doesn't want Mrs. Bennet to intercept. He manages to covertly obtain Mr. Bennet's cell number from Lizzie's phone while she is in the shower.

It is the most terrifying phone call he has ever made. It even trumps his first international conference call without his Aunt Catherine supervising. Mr. Bennet is no fool, and he knows why William is calling.

"You want to see me alone?" 

"Yes."

"Is Lizzie coming?"

"No." 

"I see."

There is a pause while Mr. Bennet savors the tremendous power he holds over his young adversary in this moment, or so William imagines.

"Well then. I imagine I will be quite at my leisure on Friday. Say 5:00 p.m.? We can meet at my office."

"Absolutely." 

When he hangs up, his hands are shaking. Quickly, he enters the address into his phone and then tears the paper he was using for notes into pieces. He is struck by the unreasonable paranoia that Lizzie is somehow listening in, despite the fact that he is in his office at Pemberley with the door closed and she is across town in a lunch meeting. 

He worries about how he is going to hide his trip for the rest of the day, but Lizzie comes to his rescue without even realizing it. She calls him as he is getting into his car to drive home.

"How did it go?" he asks, his mind already on Friday and her father. But then she tells him.

An investor who Lizzie has been trying to land for weeks has finally extended a tentative offer, and he wants her to come to LA for a series of meetings with his board. She's so sorry, but she has to go with Emma, and it has to be this weekend. She'll leave on Friday morning, and she won't be back until Monday or Tuesday. 

"Of course. You have to go! That is wonderful news."

William is ecstatic for her because of the opportunity this offer presents, but he is also happy that he won't have to hide a thing. He can't lie to her, not directly and explicitly, and as they normally spend their weekends together, his trip to Longbourn and back on a Friday would require some explanation. He kisses her goodbye on Friday with a thrill of anticipation and asks her to call him with any updates as they occur. He thinks she looks as nervous as he feels. 

Mr. Bennet makes him wait thirty minutes in the tiny waiting room of the insurance agency before he surfaces. He tells William, after a perfunctory apology, that a client needed advice on making an emergency claim, but there is a smirk tugging on the edges of the man's face that make William suspicious of this excuse. 

"I think I'd like a beer for this conversation," Mr. Bennet announces. "There's a pub down the block. Why don't we go have a seat and you can ask me what you came to ask me?" 

There it is. All the cards are on the table now.

William nods. "That would be...good." 

The pub is small and crowded, full of middle-aged men with graying hair all looking for a place of refuge after work and before going home to their wives and families. William and Mr. Bennet squeeze into a tiny booth. William glances at the menu and smiles. He is being tested. Mr. Bennet orders quickly, and the waitress looks at William expectantly. 

"I'll have the same." 

She walks away, and Mr. Bennet laughs. 

"You've never had a Bud Light in your life." 

"Neither have you," William counters. "Or at least not recently. I've stayed at your house enough times to understand your taste in alcohol. And if you are trying to scare me or make me reveal some kind of horrible defect in character, well, you should have tried harder." 

Mr. Bennet is still smiling. "Ah, well, it was worth it to see your face when we walked in here."

William rolls his eyes a little but returns the smile. He and Mr. Bennet do not have an easy relationship, but it is one of mutual understanding and general respect. They are both quiet men who love loud and expressive women, and there is a bond there that cannot be denied. That Mr. Bennet is the father of the woman William loves complicates matters some, but what friendship is not a little complicated? 

Their waitress drops two beers on their table with a dull  _clunk,_ and golden liquid fizzes and sloshes onto the weathered tabletop. 

Mr. Bennet takes a big drink. "Well?"

"Mr. Bennet," William begins, but he is interrupted with a wry chuckle.

"You might as well call me Henry."

"Sir," William says firmly. He cannot fathom that level of informality, for this discussion at least. "I have loved your daughter for many months now-"

"Which daughter, exactly, is that?"

The twinkle in Mr. Bennet's eye is obvious, and William shakes his head.

"Lizzie. You know it is Lizzie."

"Ah. Just checking. You see, I've already spoken to another young man about Jane, so if your intention was to pursue  _her_ , I would have to tell you to give it up." 

"Really? Bing?"

Mr. Bennet merely takes another sip of beer and waits politely. William sighs and makes a note to call his friend later. He wonders if Mr. Bennet is pulling his leg, trying to throw him off balance. 

"As I was saying," he continues, manfully taking a drink of his disgusting beer, "I love your daughter, Lizzie, and she loves me. I would like to ask her to be my wife, and..."

He falters in the face of the Mr. Bennet's deadpan stare. Then he drops his eyes and finishes in a rush.

"I would like to have your blessing." 

"It's funny that you're here," Mr. Bennet says after a moment. William raises his eyes from the table and sees the older man considering him thoughtfully. "I would have thought Lizzie would be against a tradition like seeking my permission."

"Truthfully, sir, you are probably right. But I am not seeking your permission. Whether you give your consent or not, I plan on asking Lizzie to marry me."

Mr. Bennet raises his eyebrows and does not reply, so William continues.

"I do not seek your permission, but rather your blessing. Lizzie and I will start our own family, but I will also be joining yours, in a way. Family is very important to me, and I wanted you to know that. I wanted you and I to be clear about what my intentions are." 

"And you're sure she'll have you?"

The question isn't meant to be unkind, William is sure, but he winces just a little all the same. "We have discussed marriage, yes, and I am sure that it is what she wants. What we both want."

"Marriage isn't about romance, William. Are you ready to work harder than you've ever worked before? It won't be a walk in the park just because you love each other."  

William nods and spins the glass in front of him. "My father told me once, before he died, that a strong marriage is a business partnership. I did not understand what he meant at the time, but the more Lizzie and I talk about our future, the clearer it becomes."

"Oh?" Mr. Bennet leans back against the booth and crosses his arms, looking exactly like Lizzie does when she is trying to regain the upper hand in a debate. "Explain it to me."

"Ah, yes, of course." William nods again, gathering his scattered thoughts. Ruefully, he regrets being so hard on Edward. Gigi would call this karma. He takes a deep, steadying breath. 

"Lizzie and I love each other, and that is important. But we also respect each other. We have different strengths, and like business partners, we must each trust the other to coordinate and care for certain aspects of our relationship. The way we communicate effects how efficiently we are able to operate, which in turn is reflected in the relative satisfaction each partner has in the relationship." 

His explanation is falling apart, and he sounds more like a MBA dissertation on basic business entities than a man in love. Mr. Bennet looks as though he's on the verge of cracking up. Frustrated, William pushes his drink aside and leans forward.

"Your daughter is as important to me as my own life, more even, and I will do everything in my power to make her happy."

The two men stare at each other for a moment, then Mr. Bennet smiles a slow, sad smile and extends his right hand over the table. William takes it shakily.

"I could not have parted with her for anyone less worthy," he says. "Thank you for playing along with me today, William. You may have my blessing, for what it's worth." 

 


	9. February, March, April 2014

**Friday, February 14, 2014**

 

8:00 - Dinner reservations

 

Maybe it is a little cliche, but William likes the idea of major events in their relationship being marked by conventional holidays. Their anniversary is St. Patrick's Day, after all. Maybe they'll get married on New Year's Eve. 

He feels his pulse speed up at the idea of it. Lizzie in white, smiling just for him as she walks down the aisle on her father's arm. The way she'll beam when she takes his hand. The look in her eyes when she promises to take him as her husband, her partner, her family.

But he's getting ahead of himself. First thing's first.  _Everything has it's time and place, William_ , his father's voice intones. There have been many moments he's wished for the comforting guidance of his father in the past eight years, but he feels the loss keenly now. 

He can't focus all day at work. Gigi keeps stopping into his office, prodding him for more information. He won't give it. It's enough that she knows he has the ring, and that he's going to ask Lizzie tonight. She doesn't need to know exactly how he plans to do it, and she certainly doesn't want details about where he hopes the night will end. 

"Don't you want to, I don't know, run your plan by someone? I mean, I love you and everything, but you aren't the smoothest customer. Maybe you could benefit from a few pointers." 

He raises his eyebrows at her when she gets to  _smoothest customer_. There are a million words he could conjure to describe his little sister, but smooth is not among them. 

"I am perfectly capable of handling all the details myself, Georgiana. But thank you." 

She leaves, still casting doubtful looks over her shoulder. It is only later, on their way to the restaurant, the ring box sitting like a lead balloon in his pocket, that he regrets not at least giving her his basic outline.

He suddenly worries that his plan isn't memorable enough. He can barely hear the waiter giving the wine choices. Lizzie is staring cross-eyed at the menu and doubtless casting aspersions about the fact that there aren't any prices listed. He calms himself by imagining how she'll tease him this time.

_You know how I know that you picked this place? They don't even tell you how much the food costs, they just assume you're good for it._

He smiles weaklyand takes a deep pull from his water glass. Lizzie looks up at him, eyes full of concern.

"Are you okay? You kind of look like you're going to puke." 

"Headache," he mumbles, reaching down under the table to pat his pocket. The box is still there. Of course it is. 

He's not going to propose at dinner. He won't drop the ring in a glass of champagne or embed it in a piece of cake. No, he wants to take her through the marina on a walk down past some of the sights they saw on their first real social interaction. He knows the perfect place. The Palace of the Fine Arts Theater will be lit up, and maybe the fountains won't be running, and maybe it will be freezing cold, but it will be a beautiful moment, and anyway, they have ways of keeping each other warm. 

They are finishing the first course when it happens. 

The restaurant is full, and while they aren't particularly close to any of the neighboring tables, there is no mistaking the moment that is taking place in front of them.

"Oh my God, really?" Lizzie whispers, shock and laughter in her voice as they watch the man drop to his knee. "On Valentine's Day? Come on, where's the creativity in that?" 

Now he really does feel as though he's going to vomit. She smiles at him, like he's in on the joke, and he has to grimace back. Her smile fades and she leans across the table, taking his hand in both of hers.

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you have a migraine? I'd offer you drugs but I have this completely useless purse with me tonight, and it barely fits a tube of lipstick, so I didn't bring any Advil." 

William shakes his head, exhaling his hopes as quietly as he can. His plans are out of the question now. She would be horrified and embarrassed about her earlier comments instead of rapturously happy, and he doesn't want that. 

Oddly enough, once he stops worrying about the two ton piece of jewelry in his pocket, he has a wonderful time. They sit and chat and enjoy each other's company for three hours and five full courses, and when they're done, they take that stroll through the marina. Later, Lizzie reveals what was in those pink bags she hid in his closet the day before, and the night ends exactly where he'd hoped, save for one important question unasked and unanswered.

* * *

**Wednesday, March 12, 2014**

12:30 - Lunch with Bing 

 

He delays his proposal plans for another month, determined that the date have personal significance. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of proposing on their anniversary better than his original plan. After all, there is a simple elegance to it. A year long courtship, followed by a short (please, let it be short) engagement, and then...forever, stretching out in front of them and filled with endless possibilities.

He thinks she may be expecting something, because he catches her whispering into her cell phone sometimes and jumping guiltily when she notices him watching.

"It's Jane," she explains in a too casual tone. "Sister stuff. Shoo!"

When Bing calls him the week before and asks if he'll be free for lunch on Wednesday, he agrees immediately.

"What are you doing back in California?" William asks, scratching the appointment hastily into his desktop calendar.

"Jane and I are coming back to see her family." Bing's tone is careful, cautious, and there is something simmering just underneath it. William puts his pen down.

"Oh? Just...because?"

"Well, you know, Lizzie's birthday is coming up and Jane thought-"

"Bing." He is familiar with his friend's stalling tactics, and like Gigi, Bing is far too sincere to be a skilled liar. William suddenly recalls his trip to visit Mr. Bennet in January, and a reference to Jane's suitor. He had completely forgotten until this moment.

"Promise you won't tell Jane I told you. And you can't tell Lizzie, either. Jane wanted to tell her in person."

"I promise."

"I asked Jane to marry me. She said yes! We saw my parents and Caroline last weekend, and we're going to stay with the Bennets this week to give them the news."

William's heart sinks for reasons he can't quite put his finger on. It isn't because he begrudges Bing this moment. On the contrary, he's thrilled. Or at least, he thinks he is. "That's wonderful news, Bing. Congratulations."

Bing laughs, oblivious to his distress. "I can't believe how happy I am. How happy  _we_  are. It's amazing." 

"You should be happy. Jane is good for you. I wish you every happiness."

The word  _happy_  starts to lose it's meaning through the mindless repetition. Bing gives a rambling description of his ordeals with the jeweler, how his custom order had been delayed over and over again until he was so anxious that he popped the question almost immediately after he had the ring in his possession. William listens quietly, occasionally making an affirmatory humming sound to encourage the story along.

He realizes why he's so miserable in the middle of Bing's description of the  _happy_ tears that filled Jane's eyes when he  _happily_ proposed. He can't ask Lizzie to marry him now, not when the whole family is so swept up with Jane and Bing's announcement.  It would be disrespectful to them, and besides, he wants Lizzie to have her own moment. She'd probably think it ridiculous, but he believes that looking back, she shouldn't have to share this particular milestone with her sister. Come to think of it, neither should Jane.

"You're...this is okay with you, right? Me and Jane?"

The question pulls William out of his head with a jolt. "Pardon?"

"You haven't always been the biggest fan of this relationship, so I just wondered whether you...you know, approve?" 

"That's absurd." He's so thrown that he let's out a humorless chuckle. "I admit to some reservations in the very beginning, but certainly not since the two of you moved to New York. She is...a perfect choice for you. And besides, when you have you ever needed my approval?"

"I don't  _need_  your approval. But I'd like to know I have it, all the same."

"You do. Always."

They share a quiet moment, and then William clears his throat and suggests Bing's favorite pizza place for lunch.

By Wednesday, William has accepted the situation for what it is. Bing is his second close friend in the last year to get engaged (Fitz and Brandon are just eight weeks from their big day), and so he has some idea of the proper questions to ask.

"I admit, I intended to question you about your plans earlier. Mr. Bennet mentioned you had spoken to him, and from our conversation I gathered this was on the horizon."

Bing cocks his head to the side, confused. "When did you talk to Mr. Bennet? I'm surprised Lizzie didn't say anything about that. It seems like the sort of thing she'd jump on and tease Jane about immediately." 

"Lizzie...was not present." William looks down at his pizza with a frown of concentration. He doesn't particularly like eating with his hands, but he has been making an effort to be a little less fussy when it comes to certain things. Reluctantly, and very, very carefully, he picks up a slice and guides it toward his mouth.

"Oh?" Bing's eyes widen. "Was she...were you alone with Mr. Bennet for a particular reason?"

"I was." William takes a bite and chews slowly, with faux focus on his meal, all too aware of the way Bing's eyes bore into his face expectantly.

"Darcy," Bing prods eventually, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline. "Come on, man. Spill."

"I made a trip to discuss the status of my relationship with Lizzie. I wanted to get his blessing."

Bing laughs loudly and does a sort of excited fist pump. William's mouth twitches into the slightest smile, despite the fact that he's taken another bite of pizza.  "When was that? I'm surprised that this kind of news hasn't gotten out. Between Gigi and Fitz I usually have a pretty good idea of what's going on in your life, even when we don't speak for a while."

"I paid Mr. Bennet a visit at the end of January." The pizza is delicious, and worth the grease all over his hands. He considers licking his fingers, and then decides that he can't permit himself to go quite that far. He wipes his hands on a tissue thin napkin instead, ignoring the way his friend is obviously waiting for more details.

"That long ago?" Bing abandons his pizza, pushing it aside and leaning forward in interest. "What's the hold-up, man?"

William hesistates, not willing to tell Bing that he has just ruined a second proposal attempt with his own joyous announcement. Instead, he picks an answer that is the truth, but not the entire truth.

"I've been trying to find the perfect moment." A thought occurs to him. "Please don't tell anyone about this. Gigi knows, and it won't shock you to know that she is finding keeping it to herself exceedingly difficult."

"Your secret is safe with me." Bing is beaming, and he picks up his pizza again with gusto. "Did you ever think we'd be here back when I first bought Netherfield? Jane and I engaged, and you and Lizzie practically living together!" 

"It is funny how life works," William agrees. He thinks that if he could somehow tell his past self about all the wonderful things in store, it would make living through those initial months that much more painful. It is better, sometimes, not to have the benefit of hindsight. 

* * *

**Monday, March 17, 2014**

ALL DAY - Lizzie's birthday [*repeat event every year*]

7:30 p.m. - Anniversary [*repeat event every year*]

* * *

**Monday, March 24, 2014**

8:00 a.m. - Lizzie leaves for New York

* * *

**Wednesday, March 26, 2014**

2:00 p.m. - Depart from SFO

5:00 p.m. - Social Media Mixer, Luxe City Center L.A.

* * *

**Thursday, March 27, 2014**

9:00 a.m. - Emerging Markets in Social Media Conference

9:36 p.m. - Lizzie arrives @ SFO

* * *

**Friday, March 28, 2014**

6:00 p.m. - Meet Lizzie @ Bennets'

* * *

**Saturday, March 29, 2014**

7:00 p.m. - Engagement Party @ Netherfield

* * *

**Monday, March 31, 2014**

9:00 a.m. - Board meeting 

11:00 a.m. - Phone conference with Charlotte Lu

12:00 p.m. - Begin department presentations 

* * *

**Tuesday, April 1, 2014**

_Reminder: Day off with Lizzie_

 

The weeks that follow their anniversary are filled with a flurry of activity for both William and Lizzie, and they barely have time to breathe, let alone spend any real time together. Once again, with the benefit of hindsight, William feels the proposal delay is probably for the best. They are so busy that their schedules wouldn't have allowed any time to pause and enjoy the moment.

Most of the things that keep them apart have been planned for a while, although the engagement party at Netherfield springs up last minute at Mrs. Bennet's rather enthusiastic insistance, and an opportunity to cooperate with Collins & Collins on a new project emerges somewhat out of the blue. That keeps him tied up at work late for a few evenings, although Charlotte is much easier to work with than Ricky ever had been, and William takes the opportunity to email his Aunt Catherine and remind her how lucky Collins & Collins is to have someone like Charlotte at the helm.

By 8:00 p.m. on the last day of March, he is mentally and physically exhausted. Lizzie has been working almost constantly. LBP is about to launch another vlog series, and since Lizzie only has the resources to pay a few staff members, she has taken the lion's share of the responsibilities on her own shoulders. She's delirious and cranky and gleeful by turn. That night, she finally stumbles into his condo at 10:00, crashing onto the bed next to him with a grunt.

He keeps his eyes closed and gropes blindly for her hand. William does not know how long they lay there, linked but not speaking, just relishing being together, before he turns his head and looks at her. She's face first in a pillow, completely supine, and it brings a smile to his face. Lizzie commits 100 percent to everything she does, and right now, she is fully commited to not moving.

"How was your day?"

That provokes a reaction. She shifts a little, just enough so that her mouth appears out of a tangle of dark red hair.

"I think it lasted for approximately 27 hours, but other than that, fine."

Her voice is raspy and low, and despite the fact that he is utterly exhausted, he still has the urge to roll over and sneak a hand up under her shirt. He doubts that he could follow through with any kind of satisfactory performance though, and judging from the way Lizzie hasn't moved an inch, she feels the same.

"Don't go to work tomorrow." He is mildly surprised at the words that are coming out of his mouth, but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea.

She pushes her hair out of her eyes and stares at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'll take a personal day. We'll sleep until noon, turn off our cell phones, and not do any work whatsoever."

She lets out a short burst of laughter and clambers over her pillows until her chin is resting on his chest.

"Okay, when did the body snatchers invade? Who are you, and what have you done with William Darcy?"

He arches an eyebrow at her. "Resistance is futile."

She climbs higher, peppering his chin and then his cheeks with kisses. "I stopped trying to resist you a long time ago."

"That is for the best, really. I make it a general practice never to take prisoners."

"Will you make me your Earth queen when you take over the planet?" She grins, and it elicits a soft chuckle from him.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"Don't change the subject." She's snickering now, and he estimates she has about two minutes before she's paralysed by a giggle fit. "We were discussing...the alien invasion...and my impending royalty."

Tears spring up at the corners of her eyes, and she can't speak anymore. She's gasping for breath, and even with tangled hair and red cheeks, he thinks she is the most beautiful woman he knows.

"I have some leftover curry in the fridge from yesterday. Can I heat it up for you?"

She nods, hiccuping through her tears and rolling over so she's back on the mountain of pillows that she insists on having on her side of the bed. While he's up, he sends an email to Mrs. Reynolds informing her that he won't be in the office tomorrow, and he finds Lizzie's phone and texts her assistant Debbie Hill. Then he shuts off the phone alarm that automatically rings every morning at 6:00 a.m. That accomplished, he loads a tray with the curry, an apple, a glass of water, and some crackers.

When he gets back to the bedroom, Lizzie is sleeping fully dressed on top of the comforter. He smiles at the sight of her splayed out across his bed, and then cringes when he sees she hasn't even taken her shoes off yet. The tray goes back to the kitchen, and he gets her undressed and under the covers. She smiles when he pulls the sheets up over her, mumbles, "Love you," and then curls into a ball on top of her pillows. When William climbs in next to her, she scoots over so that she's pressed against his back, arm draping over his stomach.

The next thing either of them are aware, the bedroom is full of light. Lizzie sits straight up, eyes wide with panic.

"What time is it?"

He starts, pulling out from a deep sleep, and then blinks against the harsh light.

"My alarm didn't go off." She looks around for her phone, clearly building into what could only be described as  _a good panic_. "Why didn't my alarm go off? This is bad. Hill's gonna wonder where I am. Shit."

He reaches up and grabs her arm, pulling her back down toward the bed, but she resists.

"No, she isn't. I let her know you weren't available today. I believe her response was something like, 'Oh good, take a day off already, you're making the rest of us look bad.'"

Lizzie exhales loudly and looks down at him. "You let her know? When?"

"Last night, after you declared yourself queen of the planet. It seemed prudent."

"Oh, God, that wasn't a dream?" She rubs her eyes and lets herself fall back in a heap on his chest. "I figured it must have been because you basically told me we should play hooky."

"Basically? That is precisely what I told you. And then I set it up, because frankly, we are both terrible at taking time off most of the time, and I have missed you."

She drops a kiss right over his heart and smiles at him. "You're disgustingly take charge. I like that about you."

"You like that about me  _now_. I believe you were telling a different story three weeks ago when I reorganized your papers."

"You messed up my system!"

"What system? It looks like you just throw things into the air and then arrange them into separate piles. How does that help you at all?"

"Don't question my system. I know where every piece of paper is."

"Until someone asks you for the quarterly budget projections."

"That was one time!"

But she's laughing, and he's smiling, and there is no hostility behind this argument, just giddy freedom. He blames the giddiness and irregular sleep patterns for what happens next. It is impulsive and not well thought out; in other words, exactly the opposite of how he normally behaves.

"What should we do today?" she asks, at the same time that he says, "Marry me."

She sits straight up again, twisting her body toward him and clutching at the sheet, which has the effect of stripping his torso bare. Her mouth hangs open, and there's a pillow mark on her cheek.

"Huh?"

He opens and closes his mouth several times, suddenly very aware of the fact that he is naked and she is in her underwear and there is nothing remotely romantic about this scenario. But the words are out there, floating between them like the speech bubble in a cartoon, and he can't take them back. Moreover, he doesn't want to. 

Instead, he gets up and goes to his dresser. It only takes him moments to find the box, which is hidden under a layer of athletic socks. He hears her draw in a deep breath and chances a peek in her direction.

She's frozen, hands on her throat, and a pink flush is working it's way from her breasts to her ears. She doesn't look displeased, though, just shocked. He forces his feet to keep moving, and then he's back in bed, sitting next to her and opening the box with shaky hands.

"This was not...I planned this moment differently," he begins sheepishly, but then he sees a smile break over her face, and he remembers that this is not the time for apologies. Far from it. "Elizabeth Bennet, I love you with all my heart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please do me the honor of becoming my wife." 

Lizzie looks at the ring for a long moment, transfixed. He is about to worry that he's read their entire relationship wrong (it would not be the first time), when she finally looks up at him again, her eyes brimming over with joy and tears.

"Yes," she whispers. "Yes, yes, yes, I'll marry you!" Her voice increases in volume as she speaks, and then she's lunging at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and kisses landing everywhere she can reach. He almost drops the ring, but in the end he manages to hold her off long enough to slip it on her finger.

Later, much later, when it becomes easier to stop touching each other and after they manage to make it to both the shower and the kitchen (never getting further than an arm's length from each other the entire time), William tells her everything, even the things that he never intended she know. She laughs and groans in the correct spots, rolling her eyes when he describes meeting her father in a seedy bar to discuss his proposal.  

"He's going to hear about this," she says in a pseudo-threatening manner, but William just smiles.

"He loves you very much. I imagine, when the time comes, I will do the same."

"Mercilessly tease the poor man who wants to marry our daughter?"

His smile grows. "Perhaps your father and I can work together. I have a feeling he would be on my side."  

Suddenly, Lizzie slaps a hand to her mouth. He turns to her, full of concern. "Lizzie? What's wrong?" 

She shakes her head, covering her eyes with one hand and laughing helplessly. "My mother is going to have a field day with this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where it ends. I wanted to do about a year and see them to the next stage, and I did that. I'm so happy that this silly fic got some wonderful feedback, and I was able to get (a little bit, not nearly enough) closure on these lovely characters. 
> 
> And by closure I mean I started to write a pre-LBD Darcy sibling fic about Gigi and William and George. It's called A Hurricane In Its Perfect Power. Check it out? Please?


End file.
